


Itch

by theleaveswant



Category: Machete (2010), The Losers (2010)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Consensual Kink, F/F, One of My Favorites, Rough Sex, Slapping, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-30
Updated: 2011-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/theleaveswant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luz's unexpected visitor helps to relieve the discomfort of her healing tattoo</p>
            </blockquote>





	Itch

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-film for Machete and either pre- or post-The Losers, no major spoilers for either.
> 
> So, obviously Luz does not have these tattoos in the movie but . . . she should? Contains brief knife play at the beginning and slapping of various non-face body parts later on.
> 
> For those unfamiliar with the processes of tattoo aftercare: they take usually between one and two weeks to heal, during which time the tattoo must be kept dry enough for a scab to form but not so dry that it will peel prematurely. Your artist will instruct you on how to do this. It's best to let the scab flake off naturally rather than scratching or picking at it, and you can temporarily relieve the itch of the healing tissue by slapping it (stuns the nerves, basically). If the scab is mistreated or doesn't form right it can take ink with it when it peels, and then you have to go back for touch-ups and repeat the healing process.

Luz parks her taco truck in front of the house, climbs into the back and packs a cooler full of leftover perishables to transfer to the fridge inside. She feels a shadow brush her heels as she follows the walk to her front door and slows, tightening her grip on her keys, but doesn't stop. A sidelong assay of the yard and street reveals nothing out of the ordinary, but she keeps her ears open as she reaches for the door. Even so, the knife suddenly kissing her throat when the lock's tumblers release catches her by surprise.

“Hola, guapita,” says a voice at her ear.

“Aisha,” Luz says, one corner of her mouth quirking upwards. “Heard a whisper on the Network you were back in Texas.”

“You knew I was coming and you still left your guard down?”

“You can't believe everything you hear. Network heralds your return practically every two weeks.”

“Here I am,” Aisha says, pressing the blade harder into Luz's skin, enough that she's _fairly_ sure it's the blunt edge.

“Here you are,” Luz agrees, and shifts her weight to the left. Aisha takes it for a feint and reacts accordingly but Luz follows through on the motion, spinning out of Aisha's grasp and coming in behind her, dropping a joint lock on the arm holding the knife.

Aisha laughs and squirms her body against Luz's. The cicadas' buzz seems louder now than it did a moment before. “I see you haven't forgotten _everything_ I taught you.”

“Not everything.” Luz releases the lock and Aisha sheathes the blade in a scabbard strapped to her thigh, then flexes and extends her elbow. Luz opens the door and drags the cooler inside. “How about vice versa? You remember anything I taught you?”

It turns out she does; Aisha's puerco pibil is almost as good as Luz's own, but they don't find that out until later.

The first thing Luz does once she's inside is peel off her shirt and drop it on the table. Her bra joins it before she starts to unpack the cooler. As she does her right hand floats to her left side, fingers curled like she wants to scratch then folding into a fist before she moves the hand away. Aisha's eyes zero in on the Mayan jaguar tattooed on the curve of Luz's ribs, bright ink covered in a layer of dull, cracked skin, white-edged like a pre-shed snake, a scab getting ready to peel.

“Fresh?” She asks, nodding at the tattoo.

“Nine days. Wish it would hurry up and flake already; this itch is driving me crazy.”

Aisha remembers the feeling, the burn of skin screaming in confusion as it heals around particles of invading ink, trapping them even as it tries to push them out. “Can you slap it?”

“Sort of. It's a tricky angle to get the force I need to knock it out.”

“Want some help?”

“If you don't mind.” Luz grins over her shoulder and shuts the fridge.

She steps gracefully over the empty cooler and stops in front of Aisha, who turns her around so their bodies are perpendicular. Aisha supports Luz with an arm across her chest and a palm cupping her shoulder. She floats her other hand in the air above the tattoo, feeling the heat radiating off her back as she lines up the shot. She winds up and follows through, and Luz grunts as the impact knocks her forward, her weight taken up by Aisha's bracing arm.

Luz settles her heels back down on the floor with a sigh and Aisha loosens her grip but doesn't remove her arm.

“How's that?” Aisha asks, rubbing Luz's back above the fresh tattoo.

“Beauty,” Luz says, squirming a little while she savors the sting and tingle.

“Got any other itches you want me to not scratch?” Aisha quirks an eyebrow.

Luz grins again. “I can think of a few.”

Aisha smirks and turns Luz back around to face her, then starts backing her up against the kitchen island. Luz's lower back hits the counter and she hops up onto it without looking, spreading her legs so that Aisha can stand between them.

“Does it itch here?” Aisha asks, trailing her fingertips with tickling lightness over the pearl-grip .45 tattooed on Luz's thigh. The gun twitches under Aisha's fingers when Luz's muscles tense. Luz nods and Aisha slaps the tattoo, hard.

She moves her attention to Luz's upper arm, stroking the subtle shading and bright colors of her half-sleeve, a photo-realistic human skull festively decorated, resting on a bed of marigolds, with more shining out of its eye sockets. “Does it itch here?” Luz nods again and Aisha claps her hand against the center of the sleeve, covering the skeletal face with her palm.

“What about here?” She traces the black curl of the scorpion crawling up the underside of Luz's breast, then smacks that breast toward the center line of her body before Luz has the chance to reply. Luz gasps, caught off guard again, her nipples tightening even in the muggy warmth of the kitchen.

“And here?” Aisha drags her fingernail down Luz's belly to her fly, then cups her mound through her shorts.

“Especially there,” Luz answers, lifting up on her hands and kicking off her boots while Aisha tugs her shorts and underwear off and drops them on the floor.

Luz spreads her legs again as Aisha's fingers find her lips above and below. She opens her mouth to bite Aisha's left index finger while her right hand draws back to deliver a stinging slap to Luz's recently shaved pussy. Her fingers come away wet.

“Are you sure you weren't expecting me?”

Luz shakes her head, tugging Aisha's hand with her and grinning around her finger, then gasps again, her eyes rolling back when Aisha slaps her pussy harder.

Aisha keeps slapping until Luz's breath starts hitching, then slips three fingers inside and starts to fuck her. Luz spreads her legs wider, shoving her pelvis hungrily towards Aisha's touch. Aisha purrs and speeds up, reaching around with the hand freed up by Luz's jaw going slack to slap the healing jaguar. Luz grunts again and Aisha can hear the rattle in her chest from the force of the smack. She hits her again to feel the reverberations roll through Luz's body and back into Aisha's through Luz's crotch.

Luz lifts her hands off the counter to grab hold of Aisha, fingers digging into her flesh on either side of the cobra on her right bicep while her other hand reaches around to grasp the bands on her left forearm, and she comes, bucking off the counter hard enough that for a moment Aisha is holding her up in mid-air by ribcage and mons.

Luz settles back down onto the island, panting, and Aisha moans in agreement, pressing against her, forehead to sweaty forehead. She waits until Luz finishes pawing her shoulders and gulping for air, then straightens her back and reaches to smooth Luz's bangs.

“That was fucking electric,” Luz says, ducking her head forward to lick the sweat from Aisha's upper lip.

“Was? We're not done yet, I hope.”

“Of course not, baby.” Luz gathers up Aisha's hair in both hands and draws it back over her shoulders. “Now you just sit back, relax, and show Mama Luz where it itches.”


End file.
